


The Thread

by Mellissalynn



Category: The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4204530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellissalynn/pseuds/Mellissalynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A serial killer has found a way to enter dreams.  He enters one and gets a surprise...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thread

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short story that I wrote some time ago. It was originally supposed to tie into the Sandman books, but I decided to make the connection much looser. The story is also posted over on deviantArt.

The Thread  
By MellissaLynn 

He sat and laughed to himself as he felt his victim’s drowsiness. `It’s almost time,’ he thought. `Almost time to play again!’ He giggled softly and looked around the little room at the shrine he’d built to himself. Newspaper clippings adorned the large bare wall of the tiny apartment. The clippings talked about the rash of bizarre sleep-related deaths in the area.  
He was interrupted in his self-worship by the feeling of his victim slipping at last into a sound sleep. `At last!’ he thought. `I get to add another clipping to my wall!’ The feeling of euphoria threatened to overwhelm him, but he schooled himself to calmness. He went over to the small pad on the floor. He bent over and touched his toes, then stepped onto the mat and slipped into a lotus position. He slowed his breathing to match his victim’s, closed his eyes, and waited for the feeling to overtake him.

As always, a vague sense of unease swept over him. `What if this is the time I don’t come back?’ he thought. `I’ve made it back every time prior, but what if…!’ His thoughts were interrupted as he felt himself wrenched out of his body. He hurtled toward the victim, all sense of dread gone. Only the sensation of flying without a body remained.

When he stopped, as always, it was jarring. One moment he was a piece of the cosmos, hurtling onward into infinity; the next, he was merely an intruder. He looked around to get his bearings. `Well, this is boring!’ he thought. `I think I’m doing this guy a favor by killing him!’ His gaze traveled over the plain little room: the small bed, the tiny dresser, the door that likely led to a bathroom. He realized he was seeing the inside of a nursing home room.

“Well, this is interesting!” said a voice from behind him. “I didn’t expect to have company in here.” A snort. “Hell, you’re still the first visitor I’ve had in over a year. Welcome!”

“Welcome?” he said in disbelief as he turned around to face his victim. “I’ve come to kill you!”

“Really?” the old man asked. “Why?”

The question caught him at a loss. At last he said, “I really don’t know. It’s what I came here to do. It’s your turn.”

“My turn?” the old man said, and laughed. “Son, it was my turn back in ’43. It was my turn in Korea. It was my turn many times over.” The old man looked around and sighed. “I hope it’s my turn now, actually. It sure as hell has been a long time coming!”

He felt distinctly uneasy. Usually it wasn’t like this. The victim was dreaming by this time, and he could play to his heart’s content. This time was distinctly different.

“Could be you’re right, though,” the old man mused. “The King of Dreams told me today that if I trusted in him, he’d take care of me. He told me to put all of my faith in him.”

“Wait a minute!’ he finally managed to say. “This is wrong! Why aren’t you dreaming? I can’t kill you if you aren’t dreaming! You have to be dreaming so I can change your dreams into your worst nightmares and scare you to death! WHY AREN’T YOU DREAMING?!”

“What are you talking about, boy? Of course I’m dreaming! In real life, I’m in an iron lung, hanging onto life by a very small thread. The King of Dreams told me that tonight, in my dreams, he would show me that thread.” The old man walked over to the window, and indeed, a silvery strand was hanging there. “He told me that if I was strong enough to cut that thread, I would go to my final reward. Now I understand why!”

“No!” he breathed. “If you cut that, I’ll die with you!”

“I know,” the old man said. “I just realized that myself.” 

And he cut the thread. 

End


End file.
